Date Night
by otherhawk
Summary: When things don't go the way he'd planned, Rusty learns that some people can be trusted. 'The More Things Change' verse.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with O11**

**A/N: Endless thanks to InSilva, as ever, for reading, for suggesting ways to improve, and just for listening to me ramble. Even if she has declared me to exist in a state of eternal wrongness. And has some strange objection to Wisconsin towns.**

**A/N2: This story contains slash. No, not Danny/Rusty. And not Rusty/Saul either. And for those who might be wondering, at this point in time the AIDS epidemic was just getting started, and the use of condoms to prevent it spreading wasn't really understood. That didn't become the official advice until 1983.**

**A/N3: Set between them meeting Saul and Learning Curve. Rusty is sixteen, Danny is eighteen.**

* * *

It wasn't like he'd actually lied to Danny, but that didn't stop him feeling guilty.

Danny was going away for a long weekend on a trip with one of his classes to Philadelphia to look at some history – the professor had been less than specific about exactly what they were going to see, but there was the dangling promise of an extra credit paper to consider, and after the whole plan-a-midterm-paper-and-a-jewellery-store-heist-a t-the-same-time fiasco, Danny had taken to regarding extra credit as something to be earned wherever possible and stored up for a rainy day. Plus there was a girl involved. April, who as far as Rusty could tell might just be the only girl on the Eastern seaboard who hadn't noticed Danny existed.

At any rate, Danny was going away for three nights, and that was two nights more than they'd been apart in a year, and when he thought about what had happened a year ago, well, he could understand why Danny looked so unhappy while he was packing. "You going to be alright?" Danny asked him casually as he balled socks together and threw them into the case.

"Think I can go three days without burning the place down," he said easily, grabbing two odd socks from the bed and helpfully pairing them together before passing them to Danny.

Danny looked at him. "These don't match," he pointed out.

Rusty shrugged. "They're both boring...I mean black."

"But they're different lengths," Danny protested.

"So don't roll your pants legs up," Rusty answered. Seemed obvious to him.

Danny considered that for a second then shrugged and threw them into the case. "Got any plans for while I'm away?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Might see if anyone from school fancies going to the movies tonight. Might go see Saul tomorrow, if he's not too busy. See if he's got anything planned."

Danny nodded slowly. "Sounds good," he said, and they left it there.

And none of that had been a lie. But then five minutes after he'd got back from driving Danny to the coach for the trip, Stefan had phoned him.

"Hi, Rusty," he said, his low voice sending a tingle down Rusty's spine. "I just bought a new car and I was wondering if you might like to come out with me tonight? Figured we could just head out on the road, out of the city, and see where the night takes us."

"Sounds good," he smiled. "What sort of car is it?"

"Should have known that's what you'd care about," Stefan said affectionately. "'s red?"

"Red, huh?" He shook his head. "The dealer must have been skipping when he saw you coming."

"Oh, alright," Stefan said with a mock sigh. "It's a Pontiac Trans Am. You like Smokey and the Bandit, right?"

He whistled. "Nice," he said appreciatively. "Can't wait to see it. When you want to pick me up?"

"About eight?" Stefan suggested.

"Looking forward to it," he said, ringing off.

Afterwards he looked down at the phone. He _hadn't _lied to Danny, but now his plans had changed and he knew Danny wouldn't approve. Danny didn't have a problem with him liking guys, he knew that beyond all shadow of a doubt. No, what Danny had a problem with was guys liking _him. _

Though in Stefan's case, he could see what made Danny uncomfortable. Stefan was a nice guy, and Danny liked him, but it didn't exactly help that at twenty five he was seven years older than Danny, and almost ten years older than Rusty. Hell, he was TA for Danny's criminology class. And even though Danny hadn't said anything, Rusty knew he wasn't exactly happy.

It wasn't anything serious anyway. Stefan was funny and good looking and they had fun together. Best of all, it was about as different from his 'relationship' with Chrissie as could be imagined. After that fiasco could Danny really blame him for wanting someone more mature? Hell, could Danny really blame him for wanting someone who actually wanted _him?_

Besides, if Danny was here, it wasn't like he'd actually object to the date. It was just that Rusty knew full well that Danny would want to know.

He bit his lip for a second, weighing up whether he should call Danny's hotel, maybe leave a message. But then that would mean Danny would start worrying for no reason, and his whole weekend would be spoiled. Nah, best just to leave it. He could tell Danny all about it..._almost_ all about it...when he got back.

Before he went out, he took a long hot bath and took his time picking out an outfit. Might not be serious, but that didn't mean he didn't want to look good. Jeans and a dark red silk shirt, and he stood in front of the tall mirror in Danny's room for a moment, considering whether or not these jeans were on the right side of too-tight. Should be okay. He smiled. Enough to make Stefan sit up and take notice anyway.

There was an unopened bottle of whisky, a couple of boxes of crackerjacks, and a bag of M&Ms in the cupboard. Might as well take them. He hesitated for a long moment before slipping a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube into his jacket pocket. Just in case.

The door buzzed and he strolled downstairs to meet Stefan. "Hi," he said, smiling in greeting, and then his eyes slid straight past him to the car. "Oh, that looks _good,_" he said admiringly. "Any chance I can get a shot?"

Stefan was looking straight at him, his eyes dark. "Yeah," he said huskily. "Yeah, why not?" His gaze wandered down Rusty's body, and then he shook his head briskly. "Um, yeah. Sure." He glanced at the food and the whisky in Rusty's hands and laughed. "So we got supplies for this little adventure then?"

"Yup." He grinned. "So. You ready to take me for a ride?"

* * *

They drove out of the city and round down the freeway for a while before Stefan turned off sharply and led them up slower, twistier roads, the trees flying past so quickly they were simply a blur of leaves, while the rain thundered down around them relentlessly, making the road shine silver in the headlights.

He grinned happily, his head thrown back, his arm hanging out the window, the whisky warm in his belly, the roar of the engine making him feel alive. They'd eaten the M&Ms and made a serious dent in the whisky, and with Stefan beside him, the world seemed unfathomably bright. "This is amazing," he shouted, the radio blared out Journey.

Stefan turned his head and smiled at him with a sort of lazy heat. "I know," he agreed. "Feels like we can go anywhere doesn't it? Do anything...be anything."

These days he felt like that all the time. Still he nodded and laid his hand on Stefan's leg, his fingers splayed lightly over his thigh. "Like freedom, right?"

"Yeah," Stefan agreed huskily, grabbing Rusty's hand and raising it to his lips, kissing each finger in turn, and sending a sudden electric thrill right through him. "I'd thought we could drive around for a while longer, until we get tired of it. Then how 'bout we find a nice motel somewhere somewhere...we can get a bite to eat and stay over. 'long as we're discreet, anyway," he added hastily.

"Hey, discretion is my middle name," he said lightly, taking another gulp of whisky. "Actually, it's Charles," he went on confidentially. "Found that out a year or so back. Still don't quite believe it. I don't know what my parents were thinking."

Oh. He shut his mouth quickly. He must be more drunk than he'd thought to be talking on like this, especially getting so close to...normally he didn't even admit that he _had _parents. But Stefan made him feel...lighthearted, maybe even careless. He felt safe and that made him reckless and ridiculous.

Stefan looked at him curiously. "You didn't know you had a middle name?"

"Yeah. Well." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "That sounds good. Either that or we could just find someone willing to pay us to take a crate of Coors down to Georgia."

Stefan wrinkled his nose. "Coors? I'd rather go with the clam chowder."

"Ah, but we don't know that they made that run," Rusty pointed out. "They could've ended up in flames at the bottom of a cliff somewhere."

"You're far too young to be such a pessimist," Stefan told him, shaking his head.

"I'm a realist," Rusty said lightly, and Stefan laughed, so he leaned over and kissed him. He tasted of chocolate and adventure, and he took his hand off the wheel briefly, cupping the back of Rusty's neck and drawing him in closer – deeper.

"Shit!" Stefan exclaimed, as he turned back to the road, and even though he'd obviously taken his foot off the gas, the bend was coming up all too quickly and they were on the wrong side of the road.

Rusty giggled, as Stefan swore again and wrenched the car back across the road. He couldn't help it. Everything was bright and funny.

Once they were safe, Stefan grinned at him. "See what you make me do? You make me lose my head." His fingers danced lightly up the inside of Rusty's thigh.

Oh, that felt... He breathed out shakily, and concentrated on keeping his voice steady. "Maybe we should find some place to pull over. Until the rain stops."

"Yeah," Stefan murmured, his voice pitched low as he gently tugged the zipper of Rusty's pants down and slowly slipped his hand inside, squeezing lightly. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Let's see if you can last that long."

* * *

He lasted into the back seat once they'd reached some deserted turning and the world had narrowed into the insistent warmth of Stefan's mouth and the gentle pressure of his fingers . His head was thrown back, his eyes were closed and his legs were thrown haphazardly across the driver's seat, the bottle of lube lying abandoned on the floor. The backseat might be uncomfortable, but oh, it was glorious.

A sudden wave of pleasure rushed through him and he gasped and a second later Stefan knelt up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling in self-satisfaction.

He sat up, his arms wrapped around Stefan's neck, kissing his throat fiercely while Stefan took a swig of whisky. He wanted to kiss everywhere at once, wanted to touch everywhere at once. The air around them was charged and blurry, and he knew this hadn't exactly been how he'd planned on letting this happen, but everything felt good and he didn't care.

Stefan's mouth was on his and the kiss tasted like warmth and whisky, and Stefan's hands were running slowly down his back, feeling their way around, and he shivered.

"I've got condoms in my pocket," he managed to murmur in Stefan's ear.

Stefan kissed him again, and his fingers crept across Rusty distractingly. "'s okay," he said breathlessly. "We don't need them."

_Don't need them? _He pulled away sharply. "Yes we do," he insisted confusedly.

Stefan rolled his eyes exasperatedly, his hands still gripping the back of Rusty's thighs. "Trust me, it feels so much better without," he said. "For both of us. You've never felt real flesh inside you without that stupid layer of rubber – you're gonna love it." His hand moved higher and Rusty grabbed his wrist.

"No," he said definitely. "Not happening. I don't do bareback."

"Oh, for..." Stefan sighed disgustedly, half turning away from him. "You really are selfish. You know that?"

"I'm sorry," he said miserably. This had all gone so wrong so quickly. "Let me - " He reached out an offering hand, but Stefan shoved it away.

"That's not what I want," he said, sullenly. "God, you're such a _child. _I knew you were still in high school, but I didn't expect you to be such a baby about things. I thought you'd know how this works." His tone shifted all at once. "C'mon, Rusty," he wheedled, running his hands lightly up Rusty's thighs. "I promise I'll make you feel good. You'll love it, really."

It _did _feel good. Only that wasn't the point. _"No,_" he said sharply, moving away from Stefan's hands.

Stefan's face took on an ugly expression. "Fine," he said, leaning over and opening the car door. "If you're gonna be like that you can just get out."

"_What?_" For a second he just stared at Stefan, dumbfounded. He couldn't be serious.

"Don't like that idea, huh?" Stefan said triumphantly. "Thought so." He paused for a second and leaned closer, until Rusty could smell the whisky on his breath. "Look, Rus'." The over-familiarity made him cringe. "You're a nice kid, but you have to learn to compromise. Relationships are all about making the other person happy. I want you happy." He ran a proprietary hand down Rusty's flank. "Can't you do the same?"

"I told you," he snapped, anger and panic and uncertainty beating through him. "I'm not doing that without a condom." And right now, he didn't think he wanted to do that at all. Right now, he wanted to go home and get as far away from Stefan as possible.

"You are an uptight fucking queen, aren't you?" Stefan said belligerently, moving forwards until he was pressing down on Rusty, looming over him, his hand dropping down between Rusty's legs. "Just let me - "

" - fuck off," he said, shoving Stefan back hard, and Stefan grabbed his wrists and for a long moment they just stared at each other, frozen.

Then Stefan let him go. "Fine then," he said crossly, and Rusty pulled up his pants with one hand and grabbed his shoes and half-ran, half-fell out of the car into the rain.

He was soaked to the skin in seconds, sprawled on the mud track, and the car door slammed behind him before he'd even managed to sit up. For a minute there was silence, and he thought maybe Stefan was reconsidering, maybe he was realising how stupid this all was.

Then the engine roared into life, and the car sped off, sending the mud flying up over him.

He'd left his jacket in the car, along with his keys and his wallet and everything.

He groaned and let his head fall forwards into his hands. It was the middle of the night, he was in the middle of nowhere and he was alone with no way of getting home. Fuck, how could he be this stupid?

In disbelief he stayed down for a second, foggily staring after the rapidly disappearing headlights, trying to convince himself that this had really happened, and that Stefan wasn't going to suddenly change his mind and come back for him. There was absolutely no sign of it. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he would get in if Stefan _did. _The last thing he wanted was for the argument to start all over again, and he had too much pride to just ignore it and pretend everything was fine, and besides...and besides, he was afraid.

He swallowed hard. He was afraid. Fuck.

He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his forehead. He wished Danny was here. He wished he wasn't alone.

Slowly he got to his feet, almost immediately stumbling and nearly falling straight back down into the mud again. Gritting his teeth, he shoved his bare feet into his shoes, grimacing as he felt the mud soak in.

Fuck. He struggled over to the side of the road and leaned his hands against a tree, his head hanging down. The rain poured down the back of his neck, ice cold and unpleasant, and he took deep slow breaths, trying desperately to sober up, trying desperately not to throw up.

Alright. First thing he had to do was get back to something approaching civilisation. They'd passed a truck stop seven or eight miles back down the road. Even drunk he could walk that in a couple of hours, and from there...he didn't know. Maybe there'd be a bus, or someone he could score a lift from, or a phone or _something. _Some way he could get back to the city.

That decided, all there was left was to start walking.

* * *

The rain didn't let up any. He tried turning up the collar of his shirt to shield himself a little, but it didn't seem to make any real difference – the rain just went straight through. It took him about twenty minutes to walk back to the main road, and from then on he was trudging down the hard shoulder, shivering. The occasional car drove past and he optimistically stuck his thumb out, hoping that someone might stop to give him a lift. No one did though, and he couldn't exactly blame them. It was a rotten night, and he knew he must look a mess. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little relieved. He wasn't so sure he wanted to be alone in a car with a stranger right now.

He'd have to get his stuff back from Stefan somehow. As much as he hated the idea, he'd better give him a call tomorrow and pick it up. He bit his lip; maybe he'd make sure to arrange to meet in a public place, just in case...just in case.

This was like a bad dream. It wasn't as if he was hurt, and he didn't think he'd really been in danger, and still he felt a thousand times more vulnerable than he had this morning. What's more, he felt stupid.

Maybe Stefan was right, maybe he was the selfish one. After all, he hadn't even been prepared to consider it. Maybe Stefan had found his insistence insulting. Hell, maybe it _was. _Maybe Stefan was right about it feeling better, maybe every other guy would have told him to just lie back and enjoy it. He might not have a whole lot of experience, but he wasn't naïve. He knew a lot of guys in Stefan's position wouldn't waste their time thinking about his pleasure. But Stefan was different' they'd done enough fooling around before for him to be sure of that. He'd been certain Stefan would be...attentive. (_Loving._)

That was the thing though, he _didn't _have much experience. There'd been Jonny back home, but that hadn't really gone anywhere, and neither of them had really known what they were doing, and there'd been Nick soon after they'd moved to New York, but that had been a one night stand, however wonderful, and there'd been...someone...when he'd ran away from Danny, but he couldn't remember much of the details, and there'd been that fling with Craig from Danny's class six months back, but Craig had even less experience than him, and he'd taken the lead, been on top.

(_Maybe he should make sure that was the way things worked from now on._ _Maybe that way he wouldn't be vulnerable again.)_

And everything else had been with girls, and that was different. Besides, even that had been few and far between – most of the girls who were interested in him were his own age, and that just felt wrong. And the older ones backed off pretty quick once they realised he was only sixteen, and a junior in high school. Except Chrissie, of course, but then she'd never been into _him. _

Moodily, he kicked a stone across the road, only then realising that he'd somehow wandered out into the centre. Huh. He had to pay more attention.

Point was, he couldn't really say with any certainty that Stefan wasn't in the right. Maybe this was all his fault. Maybe he was being selfish and uptight. But at the end of the day, it didn't _matter. _He'd promised Danny he'd always be careful, and next to that, he didn't give a damn what Stefan thought of him.

(_And yet it still hurt._)

He just wished that didn't leave him out here in the middle of nowhere, cold, drunk and wet. Sex was fun, but he was beginning to think everything else that came along with it just wasn't worth it.

For some reason he thought about Mom. He could see her in his mind; lying on the sofa, drunk and drugged and distant, could see Dad on top of her, bearing down on her, his hand grabbing her wrist. He couldn't remember her ever saying no. He couldn't remember her ever saying much of anything. He wondered where she was now? He wondered if she was doing alright? (_He wondered if she ever thought of him?_)

He shivered and stuck his hands deep in his pockets, coming up against the condoms, and angrily he threw them into the ditch by the road.

Fuck, he should never have let himself get this drunk. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, except that he _hadn't _been thinking. He'd been enjoying not thinking. He supposed this was a fitting punishment.

He should never have let things get that far. Wasn't just the mud that had him feeling dirty. The way Stefan looked at him at the end there. It made him feel...invisible and on display, all at once, if that even made sense. But Stefan hadn't looked at him like that before, had he? Everything had seemed fine. Stefan had always seemed interested in _him, _not just in sex. Hell, even Danny had thought so.

Danny. He winced. Somehow, he was gonna have to explain this to Danny. And somehow, he didn't think that Danny would listen to any suggestions that it was his fault, that he'd been stupid and careless. Danny tended to be biased. He sighed. Probably he'd miss out most of the details. Last thing he wanted was Danny overreacting.

(_He wished Danny was here to overreact. Better yet, he wished he and Danny were home, playing cards with Saul and..._)

He shook his head, dislodging the daydream. No point in thinking about how he'd like the world to be. He was here and Danny was far away, and he was gonna have to put up with that.

The wind had picked up a little, sending the rain straight into his face. He gritted his teeth and trudged on. From now on, he was always going to make sure to take his own car. And he wasn't going to let himself get drunk like this again, and he was going to -

He'd wandered out into the middle of the road again. The blare of the car horn and the blinding headlights took him by surprise. He flung himself to the side as fast as he could, and a split second later the pain slammed through his body. The car didn't even slow down.

For a stunned second, he just lay in the road, his mouth full of blood and gravel. He didn't _think _the car had hit him, but he really wasn't sure. He'd hit the ground hard and it _hurt. _His leg was throbbing wildly and he could feel blood trickling down his chin.

Gingerly he rolled over onto the verge, his eyes fluttering shut. It would feel so good to just fall asleep here...

Not an option. With a groan, he got to his feet again, biting his lip as he put weight on his leg. Nothing broken, he figured. His shirt was badly torn though, and beneath it he could see – feel – several angry grazes oozing blood. It was nothing, really. Just one more way that tonight really _really _wasn't his night.

He must have walked four miles at least, he figured. That was half way there. Another hour or so and he'd be at the truckstop and he could start figuring out what to do next.

Ignoring the rain, he limped doggedly onwards.

* * *

He had no idea in the end how long it was until he saw the lights of the truckstop. Felt like hours, but his head was spinning, his leg and ribs were throbbing, and he'd had to stop to throw up a couple of times, so he had to admit, he wasn't too sure of his sense of time anymore. At least he'd passed the point where he was so wet and cold to have become kinda numb to the whole thing.

And that was sort of a problem, he realised, as he limped into the parking lot, heading for the low building. He was too cold and too drunk to consider picking pockets, so even if there was a bus, he wouldn't be able to lift money to pay for it. That meant his best plan would probably be to try and charm a lift out of someone.

"Oy! Where the fuck do you think you're going?" The voice was young and aggressive, and he looked up blankly, to realise that he'd somehow walked right into a group of boys his age, or a little older, standing smoking outside.

He kept his voice soft and even. "Just headed inside."

The boy snorted and planted himself directly in Rusty's path, his hands squarely on his hips. He was maybe three years older than Rusty, dark haired, dressed in a tight pink t-shirt, his lips seemingly forced into a permanent pout. "Oh, I don't think so," he said. "No one works this patch without my say so. And I don't know you."

"I'm not here to work," he said stupidly, his mind full of thoughts of pick pocketing.

"Really?" The boy's eyes roamed slowly over his body, with a sort of calculated avarice, and he was reminded of Stefan and he tried to hide the squirm. "What happen? Your john throw you out?"

"What?" His mind caught up and he stared at them in shock. "No!" But it wasn't a million miles from the truth, and he wasn't able to hide that completely, and they laughed, gleefully disparaging.

"Out of a moving truck, by the looks of things," one of the other boys crowed, grabbing the arm of Rusty's shirt and sliding his hand down the mud and the ripped silk and he flinched away.

"Hope you got the cash up front," a third boy jeered, jostling him from behind, pressing himself up against Rusty's ass for a brief second.

He took a deep breath. "I'm just looking to score a ride back to the city," he tried.

"Uh huh." Without warning, the leader grabbed at Rusty's crotch, squeezing purposefully. "What you got to trade for it then, huh?"

Immediately he jumped back, and there were other hands there, grabbing his ass, groping and caressing.

"No!" he shouted, shoving them away and stumbling back, the edge of panic rushing through him, and there were hands clinging to him, and it was only after a desperate struggle that he managed to break free.

For a moment he was sure they would follow, but they stayed under cover while he staggered back into the raining parking lot, contenting themselves with whistles and cat calls, as he limped round the edge of the building.

His legs gave out the second he was out of sight, and he sank to the ground, his head falling onto his arms, his arms folded across his knees. He could still feel their hands on him. He could still feel _Stefan's _hands on him, and he felt sick and alone and afraid. (_He wanted Danny. He wanted..._)

There was no hope of hitching a ride now. Not only would he have to go past the boys again, thing was, if they were here...if they were _working _here...then that meant that they had customers. And they'd assumed he was one of them. Could he really be sure anyone he got a lift from wouldn't be thinking the same thing? Right now, he couldn't rely on his judgement. He might just wind up trapped with someone who expected something in exchange for their kindness.

But what the fuck was he going to do then? He couldn't stay here forever. He supposed he could just wait till morning – till he'd sobered up a bit, and the boys had left, and try and get some money and pay for a lift that way. That was probably his best option, and the thought of just curling up and falling asleep here was more than tempting and yet...and yet he didn't want to. Made him feel like shit to admit it, but he was afraid, and no matter how much he reminded himself that he'd been in worse fixes than this, he still wanted to just get out of here, to go home where it was safe.

He glanced up. There was a payphone embedded in the wall not too far from him, and for a second of pure longing, he actually considered calling Danny. He dismissed the thought at once. Danny would head straight back to him he knew, but by the time he got here, it would be well into tomorrow morning, so really, it wouldn't do either of them any good.

But he could give someone a call. Would have to be a collect call, of course, but there were a few people who would accept it.

(_He could phone Saul._)

And then if it was someone who owed him a favour, he could ask them to call a cab for him. Prepay it, so it would drive out, pick him up, and take him home. They had money stashed in the apartment, he'd be able to pay whoever back first thing tomorrow.

(_He could phone Saul._)

Sounded like a plan. Now he just had to figure out who owed him a favour, would be at home at the moment, and would have that sort of money on hand.

(_He could phone Saul.)_

Derek would probably be a good choice. He still owed them for getting him off the hook with that card game six months back. Or George. They'd couriered those bonds for him last minute, and he'd _said _he owed them one. Or maybe Wally or Jay...

(_He could phone Saul._)

He gave up and confronted the thought. He _could _phone Saul, and he could imagine the warmth and concern in Saul's voice, and he was tired and heartsick enough to admit to himself that he longed for it. He was reasonably sure Saul would be in, and he was positive Saul would take the call. But it wasn't like Saul owed him anything – kinda the reverse in fact – so this would just be him disturbing Saul for nothing. Although Saul _would _call a cab for him, he was sure of that too.

And the other part of it was, Saul would want to know what he was doing out here. He grimaced at the thought. Not like he could tell the truth. Saul had no idea that he ever dated guys, and Rusty wanted to keep it that way.

For some reason, he thought of Dad's reaction, the night after that party, and that had been Dad only _suspecting. _Oh, not that he thought Saul would react the same way, not with violence or anything, but he could picture the same look of anger and disgust in Saul's eyes, and that was almost...no, that _was _worse. He couldn't explain why, but it was worse. He didn't want to let Saul down like that, didn't want Saul to walk away from him.

No, he had to lie. Pretend he'd been out here with a girl, maybe, although he winced at what Saul might think he'd been doing for a girl to throw him out of her car. Still, over a brief phone call, he could make it work, and tomorrow, when he was sober, he'd manage something better.

So that was it then. He was going to phone Saul. And now that he had something approaching a decision, his stomach was rolling with tension, and he couldn't tell whether it was relief or apprehension. He hoped Saul didn't mind being woken too much. He hoped Saul wasn't mad at him for being so _stupid. _He hoped...

He pulled his knees in close to his chest and sat shivering in the rain, staring up at the phone. He'd make the call. Any minute now.

* * *

Saul was in a deep sleep and it took a few moments for the sound of the phone to fully reach him. He groaned, with the mix of annoyance and dread that a phone call in the middle of night usually provoked. No one ever called at this sort of time to say everything was great.

He got out of bed hurriedly and headed through to the living room. "Hello?" he said groggily, as he picked up the phone.

"Good evening, is this Mr Saul Bloom?" a sunny female voice asked. No one he knew, he was almost certain.

"Speaking," he confirmed tersely.

"Would you accept a collect call from a Rusty Ryan?" she went on sunnily.

Rusty? He frowned, the worry rising sharply. Rusty wouldn't call collect unless he had no other choice. And for Rusty to have no other choice..."Yes, of course," he told the woman hurriedly, and for a brief second he was listening to dead air, and then Rusty was talking.

"Hello, Saul," he said, and Saul knew instantly that something was wrong. "It's Rusty." He was trying too hard to speak clearly, and Saul didn't know if he was drunk or hurt, but either way, the worry grew tenfold.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

There was a moment of silence. "Can you call a cab for me?" Rusty asked eventually. "And pay for it, I mean, sorry. I can't...I was on a date and now I don't have a ride home, and I lost my wallet. I'll pay you back tomorrow."

He winced at the misery in Rusty's voice. Whatever had happened had obviously left him shaken. "Where are you?" he asked urgently. "I'll come pick you up."

"No!" Rusty said immediately. "Oh, no, Saul, you don't have to do that. I'm fine, I just need a cab, really."

Uh huh. Sure. Because he was going to just call a cab and go back to bed, not even knowing if Rusty got home safe. "Rusty," he said evenly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I have no intention of leaving you stranded in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. That is not going to happen. So why don't we accept the fact that I am going to be picking you up and move on from there?"

There was silence and he waited anxiously, uncertain if he'd gone too far. He had no real hold over Rusty, after all, and he was already well aware of just how stubborn Rusty could be.

"I just want to make sure you get home safe," he added with soft persuasion. "Please."

"'m sorry," Rusty said at last, miserably. "I'm at a truckstop just off the north freeway. There's a sign for the diner. Says Corrigan's."

He closed his eyes briefly, racking his brain. "I know it," he said at last, relieved. He frowned. "That's a long way out of town," he added surprised, and he cursed himself as Rusty immediately started talking.

"Yeah. So there's really no need for you to come all the way out here," Rusty said eagerly. "Seriously, Saul, I'll be fine. I mean, I'm grateful for the offer, but it's really not worth it."

"It is absolutely worth it," he said fiercely. "Listen to this carefully, Robert Charles Ryan, because this is important. If I can help you, I will. Always. It's as simple as that."

"Oh," Rusty said quietly, like that was a little too much to take in right now.

He cleared his throat. "Now," he said hurriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Rusty assured him. "'m fine."

"Where's Danny?" he asked. "He alright?"

"He's out of town," Rusty said, unhappily, and at a guess, Saul would say that he'd give anything for Danny to be with him right now.

He nodded. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah," Rusty admitted miserably.

That was about what he'd figured. "Okay. Go see if you can scrounge some coffee or something. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Saul," Rusty said softly.

He smiled. "I told you," he said. "You can call me anytime. For anything. I meant that. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you soon," Rusty echoed.

As soon as he could get there, he would. He didn't even bother getting fully dressed – just pulled his coat on over his pyjamas, shoved his feet into a pair of shoes and hurried downstairs. He didn't want to leave Rusty any longer than he had to; Rusty had sounded tired and drunk and miserable and Saul wanted to make sure he was safe.

* * *

He slipped back down to the ground, staring up at the phone. Saul was coming to get him. Coming all the way out here in the rain and the dark to pick Rusty up because he _wanted _to. Because he cared about what happened to Rusty. And he knew that should make him feel guilty as hell, but more than that, it made him feel warm inside. Made him feel like everything was taken care of. (_Like he was taken care of._) No one except Danny had ever made him feel that way before.

Saul had told him to go get a cup of coffee. And certainly that sounded nice, and getting in out of the rain would be good, but...he peeked round the corner quickly. The boys were still standing there. Wasn't worth the confrontation. No, he'd wait here, and he let his head fall forwards onto his arms and closed his eyes.

* * *

As soon as he was free of the city, Saul put his foot down hard. By the sound of things, Rusty was safe enough, but that wasn't the point. He didn't want to keep him waiting a second longer than he had to.

The road flew past in a blur. This wasn't the first time he'd been worried about Rusty, of course. In Vegas, when he'd found out about Tom Marino...he'd been worried then, about both of them. But that hadn't been so much more than he would feel for anyone in that situation. After all, Rusty and Danny weren't the first young men – boys – he'd met who were just starting out in this life. But there was something different about them, something special. He wanted to guide them and teach them and yes, protecting them was part of that.

And Rusty was so much younger than he should be. Sixteen; a child still, really, even if that was sometimes easy to forget. Maybe that was what made the difference. Because getting a drunken phonecall in the middle of the night to pick Rusty up because his date had gone bad...oh, that was something else altogether. That wasn't exactly what he'd signed up for. But he already knew, he didn't mind one bit. In fact, inside he was rejoicing even through the worry, pleased that at least Rusty _had _called him.

It took him around an hour and a half to reach the truck stop, and he pulled into the parking lot and jumped out the car, heading anxiously towards the door. There was a crowd of boys hanging around at the entrance, and he scanned them over quickly, just in case Rusty was among them.

They spotted him looking and immediately started primping. "Hey, there, see anything you like?" one of them called over to him, sticking his lips out in an outrageous pout.

Saul shook his head firmly. "I'm just looking for - " He stopped, catching sight of another figure huddled just round the corner.

Instinct had him hurrying over, and he found himself looking down at Rusty, soaked to the skin, shivering and seemingly asleep. "Hey, kid," he said softly, bending down and laying a light hand on his arm. "Time to go."

With a start, Rusty sat up straight, blinking round until he saw him. "Saul," he murmured sleepily, his dawning smile full of grace.

"Told you I'd be here," Saul told him.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed happily, still staring at him like he couldn't quite believe it.

Unhappily, Saul noticed the blood on his chin and the mud caked on his shirt and jeans. "I thought you said you weren't hurt," he scolded gently.

Effortfully, Rusty shrugged. "'s nothing," he said, then started to stand up and hastily Saul proffered an arm.

"There we go," he said meaninglessly, once Rusty was on his feet. "I'm parked just over this way." Rusty nodded and they started walking, and with distress, Saul noticed he was badly limping. "What happened to your leg?" he asked.

Rusty shrugged again. "My own fault. I was walking in the road to get here, and a care came an' I had to jump out the way. Think I pulled something. 's not too bad. I can still walk on it and everything."

And that explained the mud, and suggested that whatever had happened hadn't happened at the truck stop like he'd been assuming. He sighed. "Any particular reason you didn't wait inside?" he asked.

In answer, Rusty glanced to the side, to the boys gathered at the door. They caught sight of him and Rusty, and immediately started wolf-whistling and making obscene gestures.

"I see," he said grimly. He could understand why Rusty wouldn't want to walk past that. Not when he was drunk and vulnerable anyway. "They give you trouble?"

Rusty just shrugged yet again, obviously uncomfortable discussing it.

With a nod, Saul agreed to let it go. They reached the car and he stepped in when Rusty fumbled with the door, getting him sat down in the passenger seat, and fixing the seatbelt.

Rusty looked up at him. "Saul, I...thank you."

"You're very welcome," he said gently.

He drove back more slowly, stealing the occasional glance at Rusty, wondering if he should give Walt a call, have him come check Rusty over. But in the end he decided it could wait till morning. There was nothing obviously serious, and it would be easier to tell if there was anything else once Rusty was sober.

"You mind telling me what happened?" he asked.

Rusty stared out the window. "We were on a date. Trying out a new car. We had an argument. I got out and walked back. Then I called you." His voice was carefully devoid of emotion, and in the reflection, Saul could see his face was emotionless. That didn't mean he missed the pain.

He bit his lip. "Was it your idea to get out the car?" he asked.

For a second, he could see the lie dawn on Rusty's face, then he quickly shook his head and looked down. "No," he said in a whisper. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "I didn't do anything wrong," he added, and he didn't sound absolutely certain.

But somehow, Saul was. "Of course you didn't," he said. and he was rewarded with a slow, hopeful smile.

"I am sorry you had to come all the way out here," Rusty said after a second.

He rolled his eyes, and kept his attention on the road. "I told you. I'm always going to help you. I'll always come for you, no matter what."

"People don't do that," Rusty told him seriously.

He swallowed hard and carefully didn't look round. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but Rusty seemed just drunk enough, and just lonely enough to open up. "They don't, huh?"

"No," Rusty said, shaking his head. "They don't. Dad sent me off to deal with Rafferty, an' he never even came looking when I didn't come back. And I spent over a week on the streets, and no one cared, not even when Wolfy died. And one time, Danny was in hospital, and his parents didn't even come back from their holiday." His voice rose at that, sharp with the memory of old hurt and outrage.

And even that was a shadow of the fresh anger and outrage Saul was feeling. None of the stories gave the whole picture, but that didn't matter. There was more than enough there to give him nightmares. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel, and he took a deep breath, because right now, Rusty didn't need his anger.

"Adults - _people_ don't do that," Rusty repeated again, stubbornly, and Saul could see that there was a whole world, just outside of Rusty's experience, a world where adults could be trusted, and people would help one another and driving two hours to pick up someone you...cared about...in the middle of the night was just not a big deal.

"I am not 'people'," he said simply. "I'll always help you because I'll always want to. And I'm not the only one either." Rusty was looking at him. He took a deep breath."Listen, Rusty, do you remember that busker in Vegas?" he asked intently. "You and Danny helped him just because you could. You really think you're the only ones who act like that?"

"No-o," Rusty said slowly, and Saul could hear what he wasn't saying. One rule for them, another rule for other people.

"You matter," he said softly. "When you need me, I'll always come for you because you matter. Okay?" It was the truth, he realised. He was talking about a lifetime commitment.

"No one's ever..." Rusty trailed off uncomfortably.

"I know," he said quickly. "But I will."

* * *

By the time they reached the city he was dozing with his head pressed comfortably against the coolness of the window.

Talking to Saul had made him feel a hundred times better. If Stefan had made him feel...used, for want of a better word, Saul's quiet, confident assertion that he mattered, and just everything Saul had done for him tonight – it made him feel cared for. Safe.

He'd always had plenty of friends. Friends were people that you had fun with, that you helped out when they were in trouble, that maybe you even – very occasionally, when you had absolutely no other choice – _trusted _with some of the easy stuff. But he was beginning to think that 'friendship' was as inadequate a word to describe him and Saul as it was to describe him and Danny.

And that made him feel guilty. Cos in a way, all of this was under false pretences. If Saul knew what had really happened to him this evening, who he'd really been dating, that fondness, that _pride _would just...disappear. And as much as that thought burned him, he still felt like lying made him undeserving. Which was ridiculous – lying was a lifestyle choice.

They pulled up at the side of the road, and he opened his eyes in surprise, blinking up at the building. This was Saul's home. "That's not our place," he said stupidly. He'd thought that was where they were going.

"No," Saul agreed, sounding slightly uneasy. "I figured it would be easier if you came home with me for the moment. You said you'd lost your wallet – I'm gonna guess you don't have your keys either."

"No," he agreed, but they both knew that wouldn't really stop either of them getting in somehow. This was more about Saul not wanting to leave him alone while he was drunk, and that made him smile. Because he had to admit, he didn't want to go home right now. Home would be cold and dark and lonely.

"Rusty," Saul said, like it wasn't the first time and his eyes shot open. Huh. He hadn't even realised he'd closed them. "Is that okay?"

"Yes. Thanks," he said softly.

Saul lived on the third floor, and between his leg and the alcohol, the stairs were just a little more difficult than normal. But Saul was patient and considerate, and soon they were inside, and Saul led him straight through to the spare room, and he was lying down and Saul was easing his shoes off.

He knew he should be protesting that he could do that himself, but when he tried to sit up to actually _do _it, he fell straight back down again.

Saul left the room and reappeared with a flannel, some antiseptic and a glass of water.

"Here you go," he said, handing the water over. "Drink this. You're gonna feel like hell in the morning, no doubt, but this should help a bit."

He drank gratefully, and it tasted cool and sweet. As he put it down, Saul knelt down beside him and started dabbing at the graze on his chin with the flannel. "We need to get these clean before you go to sleep," he said, glancing worriedly from Rusty's chin to the gashes showing through his shirt.

The look in Saul's eyes was one he'd seen from Danny more times than he could count. He squirmed guiltily as Saul washed the blood and mud away. This was a kindness too far. He reached out and grabbed Saul's sleeve. "It was a guy," he blurted out.

Saul blinked at him. "What?"

He swallowed hard, but pressed on determinedly. "Tonight. My date. I was dating a guy." He waited for a breathless second. "D'you...do you want me to go?" He tried to sit up again. "I should go." Saul put a lightly restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Now you're being ridiculous," he said. "Why would I want you to leave?"

"Cos I like guys sometimes?" he said hesitantly, and he really wasn't sure if Saul had understood.

Saul snorted. "You think your generation invented it?" he demanded. "You are not the first guy I've known who...likes...other guys. And more importantly, you are not telling me anything I didn't already know."

Oh, He blinked. Even Danny hadn't guessed until Rusty had told him. "You knew?"

"Yes," Saul told him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and eyeing him seriously. "Listen, Rusty. This doesn't change a thing about you as far as I am concerned. You're still the exact same person. I still feel the same way about you." He reached out and laid his hand gently on top of Rusty's, and it felt warm. Comforting. "Honestly, I don't care who you date, as long as they make you happy and treat you well."

Oh. A pressure in his chest he hadn't even been aware of suddenly vanished. And still Saul's remark had been somewhat pointed. "Stefan didn't treat me badly," he protested. "We just argued cos he wanted me to do something I didn't want to, that's all."

The grip on his hand suddenly tightened, and Saul was staring unblinking at him, a strange look in his eyes. "Did he...did he _hurt _you?" he demanded.

"No!" Rusty said immediately. "Oh, no, it wasn't _that. _Or not exactly that." He felt his face colour. "He just, uh, didn't want to use protection. And I said he had to, and we fought about it and then he told me to get out the car. That's all."

"That's all huh?" Saul said softly, and Rusty nodded. Saul sighed. "We are going to talk about this more tomorrow, Robert," he warned. "When you're sober enough that I can be sure you'll remember. Right now though, I just want you to know that was wrong of him. _No one _has a right to try and make you do anything you don't want to like that."

He bit his lip. "Thanks, Saul," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I don't want to see him again."

"You don't have to," Saul assured him.

He shook his head gloomily. "I have to pick my stuff up from him," he pointed out. "And he's TA for Danny's criminology class, so I'm bound to run into him from time to time." And he could already imagine how that would feel, and it made him bury his face in the pillow just to try and escape the feelings in his head.

Saul laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," he promised softly. "Rusty, it'll be okay."

When Saul said it, he believed him. "You really don't mind?" he asked sleepily.

"I really don't mind," Saul assured him.

He smiled. "G'night, Saul."

"Goodnight, Rusty," Saul answered, but his eyes were already closed, and Saul's voice was coming from far away.

* * *

Saul sat on the chair in the spare bedroom and watched Rusty sleep for a long time. It hurt that Rusty had been afraid to trust him with his sexuality, and more that he'd actually thought Saul might just throw him out, but he supposed he could understand the fear. He hadn't been lying; he had known a few homosexuals in his time, but he'd also heard the names they were called, and he'd seen the friendships they had lost. And honestly, he'd never really cared about it either, until he saw Pat Bonner and his boyfriend beaten to within an inch of their lives. Pat had lost an eye. Looking at Rusty's face, sleeping peacefully, he imagined and he shivered. No way he let that happen.

With a sigh, he considered that one of the things he'd have to get around to discussing with Rusty in the morning was the need to be careful. Discreet. To keep his guard up. Like he wasn't that way inclined enough already. Not to mention he hated the idea of even suggesting that Rusty should be ashamed of who he was.

Truthfully, he'd just assumed that the date was with a man. Call him old-fashioned, but abandoning someone in the middle of nowhere – it sounded more of a thing a man would do. A bastard of a man, anyway. He took a deep breath, managing the fury. He'd got more than enough detail out of Rusty to paint a picture of what had happened, and as angry as that made him, it was nothing to what _could _have happened. As drunk as he was, it was a miracle that he'd only _almost _been run over, and that thought made Saul's blood run cold.

He could have lost Rusty tonight, and it felt like for the first time he was fully realising what a loss that would really be for him. Rusty had wandered into his life and somehow, in what was really such a short length of time, he'd become all important, him and Danny both.

He watched Rusty sleep and it felt like...He sighed. He could admit it in his own head, if nowhere else. Rusty felt like the son he'd never had. This was the sort of miracle he didn't dare question.

With one last look he stood, absently tucking the covers close around Rusty's shoulders, before he stole out of the room and went to bed.

* * *

The sun was blazing through the gap in the curtains when he woke up. With a heartfelt groan and a pounding head, he rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. Then he stopped. That wasn't his pillow. He sat up quickly, frowning and uncertain, then the memories came flooding back and he groaned again, burying his face in his hands.

Stefan. How could he have been so _stupid?_ It would have served him right if Saul had just left him to fend for himself. Only Saul hadn't. He remembered that too, and now, looking back, he could see the worry in Saul's eyes, and the gentle, patient concern he'd answered all Rusty's ramblings with. He winced, remembering some of the stupid shit he'd said. About Rafferty, and sleeping on the streets, and he remembered the pain in Saul's eyes with a sigh. Fuck, he'd even told Saul he liked guys. He had to stop getting drunk and telling people that, he made himself too vulnerable. Although really, it had only been Danny and Saul, and if he trusted two people..._oh. _

He trusted two people. There were two people in the world he trusted. He actually trusted someone besides Danny, and if someone had told him that a year ago, he would have scoffed and said it could never happen. But that was why he had called Saul last night, he had trusted that Saul would fix everything, would look after him. And Saul hadn't let him down. He remembered the conversation as he was falling asleep last night, remembered feeling safe, feeling...(_loved_)

He sighed and shuffled up straighter, pulling his knees up against his chest. Even so, he was sort of apprehensive about going out there this morning, worried that in the cold light of day with Rusty less...needy...Saul might have something more to say, might even be angry at how clingy Rusty had been.

No. He dug his nails into his palms sharply. He was being ridiculous. He was thinking about Dad, feeling the fear of how _Dad _would react in this situation, and that wasn't like comparing apples and oranges, that was like comparing apples and Arkansas. There was just no comparison to be made.

Determinedly, he stood up and walked out of the bedroom, stumbling slightly as he put his weight on his leg, and all the logic and rational thinking in the world didn't stop his stomach flipping over when he saw Saul sitting in the living room, reading a paper and obviously waiting for him.

He hung back in the doorway awkwardly, mouth suddenly too dry to contemplate speaking, even if he knew what he wanted to say.

Saul looked up and smiled at him warmly. "Morning," he said brightly. "Sit down and I'll get you a coffee."

Relaxing noticeably, he limped over to the sofa and sat down gratefully.

"You want some of this?" Saul called from the kitchen, holding up a packet of soluble aspirin.

Oh, fuck yes. He nodded eagerly, wincing slightly at the movement.

"Here you go," Saul said a moment later, bringing over a gently fizzing glass, and a hot mug of milky coffee. He knew before he'd even tasted it that it would have three sugars in, just the way he liked it, because Saul cared about the details.

He smiled his gratitude and drank the aspirin down as fast as he could, as Saul looked at him thoughtfully.

He drank the coffee more slowly and they sat in silence for a while until Saul spoke. "Figured you'd want a shower and some clean clothes." He nodded to a carrier bag lying on the floor beside you. "I went out first thing and picked you up some things from the store on the corner."

Suddenly acutely aware that he was still covered in mud and sweat and fuck-knew-what from last night, he shifted uncomfortably. He was pretty sure Saul buying him clothes was a step too far. Not to mention it was unnecessary. He had money, after all, at home. Hell, he had clothes. (_Dad had never bought him new clothes. He'd think it was a waste._)

"But I want to," Saul said gently, in response to the thought he'd read on Rusty's face. "And you know the rest doesn't matter."

The money didn't matter. Bobby had said something like that once upon a time. At the time he'd thought it was a thief thing. Money wasn't important as it was just a means to an end, and a way to keep score. Now he thought maybe Saul was saying money didn't matter because _he _was more important. He bit his lip, and all the arguments and protestations about how unnecessary it was just died away. "Thank you," he said with soft sincerity.

Saul smiled right back at him. "You're welcome."

He took his time in the shower and the hot water and clean clothes made him feel a hundred times better. He smiled at the shiny lavender shirt. How well Saul knew him.

Peering in the mirror through the steam, he realised that the bruises were a little worse than he'd thought. There were dark purple patches above his ribs, and he pressed his hand against them thoughtfully. The scrape on his chin looked ugly as well, and his knee was pretty swollen. He sighed. He'd had worse, more times than he could count, but he still dreaded explaining this to Danny.

By the time he was washed and dressed and had gargled a swig or two of mouthwash, he was feeling just about human. Which was just as well, as he walked back into the living room to see Saul waiting for him at the table, with a fresh pot of coffee, a plate of bagels and a serious expression. "I figured we could eat while he talked."

He smiled charmingly. "Suppose the talking is compulsory?"

"Oh, I'd say so," Saul said dryly, gesturing towards a chair. "Sit."

He sat. But he busied himself for the longest of times, pouring himself a cup of coffee and fixing himself a bagel. He was only delaying the inevitable though, and Saul waited patiently all the while.

"I wanted to talk to you," he began finally, when Rusty finally had to look up. "About how much you drank last night."

"It wasn't clever, I know that," he admitted readily. "I don't normally get like that. You _know _I don't normally get like that."

"I do know that," Saul agreed immediately. "And I'm not going to remind you that you're underage. The way I figure it, you're old enough to support yourself, you're old enough to have a drink or two. But Rusty..." He took a deep breath. "Drinking like that isn't healthy no matter how old you are, but _especially _at your age. You're still growing. You can't drink as much as a full grown man, and you shouldn't try to."

Fleetingly, he remembered talking to Danny after he'd got high that time. There was the same worry there. And he felt just as wretched. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. I just...misjudged it."

Saul looked at him for a long moment. "Okay," he said at last. "Just promise me you'll be more careful in future."

"I will." He swallowed hard. "I felt safe," he admitted, almost inaudibly. "With him, I mean. I felt safe and comfortable, and it made me careless."

Saul sighed sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I meant what I said last night; you did nothing wrong. _He's _the one who behaved badly. He tried to take advantage of you, and I'm very sorry that happened to you, but I'm very proud you didn't give in to him." Unexpectedly, he leaned over and touched Rusty's cheek lightly, encouraging eye contact. "You did nothing wrong," he emphasised.

He took a deep breath and nodded, his heart lighter.

"There are things you have a right to expect from a relationship," Saul went on, starting to draw his hand back and then seemingly changing his mind and laying his hand on the table next to Rusty's, almost but not quite touching. "At the very least, you deserve a basic amount of respect, and that includes choosing to use protection. You're right to want that, it's the mature choice - "

" - I promised Danny," he interrupted, because it wasn't exactly _his _maturity on display here. "We talked about it a long time ago. We agreed we'd both always be careful."

Saul nodded. "More to the point, even if this Stefan isn't smart enough to want the same, he has no right to get angry with you, and he sure as hell shouldn't leave you in the middle of nowhere with no way to get home." He could hear the anger bleeding into Saul's voice.

"I can take care of myself," he protested, because he could, and if Saul hadn't been there last night, he would have managed somehow.

"Oh, Rusty," Saul sighed. "It isn't a question of looking after yourself. It's a question of common human decency. Let me ask you. It had been the other way round, would you have thrown him out the car?"

"No, of course not," he said at once indignantly, and sighed at the look on Saul's face. Yeah. He supposed that was the point. And still it didn't feel right, but when he tried to form any sort of argument in his head, it sounded like he was saying that he didn't expect to be treated like everyone else, and suddenly this felt like the conversation he'd been having with Danny for most of his life. Huh. "Just because someone _shouldn't _act like that doesn't mean they're not going to though," he pointed out instead.

"Sure," Saul agreed immediately. "There will always be plenty of people in the world who will behave...wrongly. I just want to know that you are clear on what you deserve, and what you should expect to put up with." He took a deep breath. "Relationships...sex, even...it's supposed to be two way, Rusty. Your feelings matter. _You_ matter. And when you say it's not your fault, I want you to sound like you believe it."

Oh. He smiled slightly. "Thanks, Saul," he said softly.

There was a pause, and Rusty was aware of Saul looking at him hesitantly, like he was trying to figure out whether to say something.

"What?" he asked.

Saul sighed. "You said Stefan was the TA for Danny's class. I guess he's older than you, is that right?"

Rusty nodded tersely. "He's twenty five," he admitted.

"Quite the age gap," Saul noted.

He rubbed his fingers against his mouth agitatedly. "I don't like dating people my own age," he said. "They're all such _children._"

"It can't be easy for you," Saul said, with unexpected sympathy. "I know that. But Rusty...look, we both know that you can pass for eighteen when you want to."

"For a week or so, at least," Rusty murmured with a smile, remembering when he'd first met Saul.

Saul returned the smile before growing serious. "But the thing is, that's more to do with the way you act, the way you carry yourself, your eyes... Objectively, you look like a sixteen year old. That's what people see. So you have to ask yourself, do you want to date a twenty five year old who's happy to date a sixteen year old? Who wantsto date a sixteen year old?"

He took a sharp breath, imagining any of the kids in his class in his place last night. Jason or Victoria or Aaron. He could imagine how they would revel in the attention, could imagine how the whisky would go straight to their heads, could imagine how they'd never manage to say no, and certainly never go so far as to get out the car.

Suddenly, he wondered if he was the first person Stefan had tried that little act on. He felt sick.

"Obviously not everyone's going to be like that," Saul added, watching him. "There are plenty of people who will like you for you. But right now, for the next few years, it's something you have to bear in mind, that's all."

He would. "I hate being sixteen," he said with a scowl.

Saul snorted. "There are worse things," he said. "Wait until the first time you walk into a room and can't remember why."

He grinned. "So what age should I be looking forward to?"

Saul looked thoughtful. "Twenty one," he said decidedly, and Rusty laughed. Saul smiled at him warmly. "Actually, the age I am now has been pretty good," he added.

Rusty smiled and drank up his coffee. He was feeling so much better now. And he didn't think it was down to the caffeine.

"There was one other thing I wanted to say," Saul said after a moment. "I told you, I don't have any problem with you liking men, and I meant that. But you have to know - "

" - other people aren't so understanding?" He laughed humourlessly, thinking of Dad, and he unconsciously curled his hands together protectively, the memory of the pain forever fresh in his memory. "Yeah. I know. And honestly, I am careful, Saul. I know to be...discreet."

"I wish you didn't have to be," Saul told him earnestly. "But Rusty, remember – I'll always have your back. So will Danny. And Bobby as well, if it comes to that."

He blinked. "Bobby knows?" he asked, uncharacteristically nervous. Wouldn't _that _just be embarrassing.

Saul shrugged. "I have no idea. But it doesn't matter."

Huh. He swallowed hard. It was difficult to deal with the certainty in Saul's voice.

"So, what would you like to do today?" Saul asked, seemingly sensing his discomfort. "You're welcome to stay here until Danny gets back, if you'd like."

He looked over quickly, searching Saul's face for confirmation he meant it. That sounded like a good way to spend the weekend to him. "I'll need to give Danny a call at some point, just to let him know where I am," he said. Else Danny would worry.

"Of course," Saul nodded. "I thought we could have a lazy day. Maybe get some Chinese food tonight. And we can stop by your place and pick up your stuff...you got any homework for next week?"

He groaned. "Homework? Really?"

Saul just looked at him.

"I've got a couple of math sheets to work through," he admitted. "And a history essay that's half finished. I could use a hand, if you don't mind?" he finished hopefully.

"Of course," Saul smiled, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He found himself smiling. He honestly felt like Saul would always be there for him. And that felt like a miracle.

* * *

A teaching assistant named Stefan from the criminology department. With so many clues, for a man in Saul's line of work, tracking him down was simplicity himself, and getting hold of his diary only a little more difficult. From there, it was just a question of picking his moment.

Like right now, with Stefan in a meeting with the Dean and numerous professors and heads of department. He walked calmly in and stood at the head of the table, looking straight at Stefan and waiting patiently until the Dean twisted round to look at him. "Yes? Can we help you?"

"Stefan Meyer?" he asked, his eyes still trained on Stefan, and the nervous swallow was all the answer he needed. He was perfectly willing to admit he was biased, but he took an instant, easy dislike to the handsome face, the laughing eyes, the arrogant mouth. This was a man he found easy to hate. "I wanted to talk to you about your little habit of driving sixteen year olds out of the city, getting them drunk and then abandoning them on the roadside in the middle of the night when they won't put out for you."

There was a series of shocked gasps and exclamations around the room. Stefan paled dramatically.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he protested unconvincingly.

"Uh huh." Saul nodded. "Well, I can see you're busy, so I'll be going now." He walked back towards the door, smiling coldly at the muttered conversations breaking out behind him, and in the doorway, he paused, and turned back. "One more thing. You go near that child again, I promise you'll regret it. I hope we understand each other."

With that, he walked out. He was meeting the boys for dinner and he didn't want to be late.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please take a moment to let me know what you think. :)**


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